‘IF you’d like a quieter table for dessert, we can move you,” the amiable manager at Jane offers us one night.

Thanks, but no thanks – we’ll take what’s left of our eardrums home.All-American Jane is a jolly, well-run place. But it inflicts common yuppiedom on hip downtown.

It brings the fun of Upper West Side noiseterias to West Houston Street, complete with “straightforward” American cooking that staggers far off course.

Jane is a squarish barn with columns, two mirrors and a few fuzzy photos of blowing grasses. Banquettes are cloth; tables and chairs, uncushioned hardwood.

It isn’t much to look at, but the big front windows remind you it’s SoHo. Just avoid being seated near the dreaded Big Round Booths, which might be filled by ossified bozos and bozettes rehearsing for the next “Scream.”

The hostesses cheerfully seat you even when your party is “incomplete.” Jane justly prides itself on its hospitality, a legacy it owes to Steve Hanson’s eatery empire, for which Jane’s managing partner, Jeffrey Lefcourt, formerly worked.

But Hanson’s places, like Blue Water Grill and even Ruby Foo, manage to edit their dishes so as not to wander all over the map – a rule that Jane tosses to the wind like those grasses on the wall.

Most starters avoid the house hex. “Crispy” East Coast clams ($9) are crispy, and there’s enough clam not to make you feel like you’re eating crumbs. But they come with bland corn dip and Thai- and Mexican-peppered hot vinegar too piercing to let you taste anything.

Why not serve the clams with the spicy tartar sauce that makes fireworks with irresistibly fresh crab and crawfish fritters ($9)?

When it comes to entrees, chef Glenn Harris could learn from even cheaper Midway, where less confusion makes for a happier meal. Parmesan-crusted veal ($19) was juicy and crisply executed. But the dish broke new ground with iced orzo, a bed of refrigerator-cold pasta weirdly tucked under the veal.

Hearty blossom honey-braised pork ($19) is ambushed by mascarpone polenta that could moonlight as baby food, and too-tart orange parsley salad. And only a blindfolded romp through a salad bar could explain fava bean risotto ($17) with roast eggplant, lemon spinach and the alleged risotto ensnared in sticky truffle oil.

Ice cream and gelato components of $7 and $8 desserts give a good account of themselves. Pastry components, like peach purse and banana bread pudding, do not. For sweets, you’re better off strolling to SoHo, alive with laughter at 11 p.m. – music to what’s left of your ears.